Doing the 'rellie run' (NT slang for going down south to visit your family) this time feels normal. Like we are on holidays. Like we have done many times before. Apart from the need to manage Sue's daily tiredness and some low-level pain and discomfort, we are doing what we have always done - sharing normal daily life with the far-flung members of our family (with the occassional cafe visit or special treat thrown in). Then something catches you off guard. A thought. A word. A question. Here is an example from yesterday.

We were walking the main street of Yarragon with Tessa (having just visited the bakery!) and Sue looked down at her scarf and said "I really need a brooch to keep this together" (or words to that effect - I wasn't paying close attention!). I responding by saying that there was heaps of lovely jewellery in the gallery up ahead so we should go in and buy something. Sue's response was to question whether it was worth spending money on an item that she could do without and may only get to use for a little while........  (momentary pause).  Solution? Sue agreed to buy something that she and Tessa both liked so Tessa could have it after Sue dies.

A strange and pragmatic, yet loving and tender, transaction without a visible outpouring of grief or emotion. Visiting family. Going to the bakery. Buying a brooch. All very normal - but not quite.